


Spit It Out

by moonflowers



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Blow Jobs, Developing Relationship, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, POV Alternating, Porn with Feelings, Soft Boys, Summer 85, Summer Fic, porn with the tiniest bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-11-23 14:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: Billy was watching Steve. The other boy was lying on his front by the pool, striped towel bunched up under his elbows, sunglasses on and reading a magazine. Maybe more just looking at the pictures, but Billy wasn’t gonna call him out on it. He could – past experience had shown that Steve was just as likely to make out with him if he was a bitch as when he played nice. Because it had happened enough times now for Billy to know what worked and what didn’t, when to rile him up or talk him down, how to get exactly what he wanted. And from the pleased little smiles he caught on Harrington’s face sometimes, Billy got the distinct feeling it was a two-way street. It had happened enough times that he’d stopped actively trying to avoid it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Little break from my long slow burn fic to finally post this.  
I guess this could either be set just before series three starts – which, ouch – or as a sort of AU of that summer. This was meant to just be filth, but oh boy did it get some feelings. Title from Whitesnake’s Spit It Out, because that song was just begging for me to write porn about it.

**The things that you do make a queen out of you,**

**And make me a king for a day.**

**If you don’t like it**

**Spit it out.**

Billy was watching Steve. The other boy was lying on his front by the pool, striped towel bunched up under his elbows, sunglasses on and reading a magazine. Maybe more just looking at the pictures, but Billy wasn’t gonna call him out on it. He could – past experience had shown that Steve was just as likely to make out with him if he was a bitch as when he played nice. Because it had happened enough times now for Billy to know what worked and what didn’t, when to rile him up or talk him down, how to get exactly what he wanted. And from the pleased little smiles he caught on Harrington’s face sometimes, Billy got the distinct feeling it was a two-way street. It had happened enough times that he’d stopped actively trying to avoid it.

“You wanna go to the movies later?” Harrington said without looking up from the glossy pages. “There’s this thing the kids were telling me about… sounds kinda dumb, but y’know, lots of explosions and shit. Might be cool.”

“You askin’ me on date, Harrington?” Billy said, made a conscious effort to keep his voice even, hide the way the idea made his heart pick up speed. “You know I don’t do dates.”

Steve snorted. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He _had_ made an effort to avoid it that morning, though. It was a Sunday, and it was hot. He’d worked out first thing, before the heat would make it unbearable. The others had gone to church. Neil didn’t insist he attend, unless he was in a particular type of shitty mood, and he’d grabbed at the chance for an hour’s respite. Drank his coffee in the back yard, watched mist burn off between the trees as he tapped loose ash from his cigarette, and tried not to think about Steve Harrington in gym shorts. When they got back, he’d used the excuse of fucking around with his car a little to stay out of the house, watched Max attempt some new thing on her board, and laughed when she ate shit. Told her where she was going wrong to stop her scowling at him for it. Then they’d had to face the weekly torture of family lunch, which was equally excruciating for everyone involved, but none of them could escape. It was a little more bearable, now he and Max hated each other a little less. By around two, in Billy’s opinion the worst time of the day, he was climbing the fuckin’ walls. Needed to get out. And as much as he wanted to deny it, as much as he told himself he wouldn’t give in this time, there was only one place he wanted to go.

Which was why, a little after two thirty, he’d found himself lurking around by Harrington’s pool. Couldn’t help himself, sniffed around the back door like a dog waiting to be let in. No point in denying it; he’d been sniffing around Harrington since day one. Deep down, he felt there was something shameful about it, about the way he stood dutifully outside the house, already in swim shorts and towel clutched in front of him, practically panting as he waited for Harrington to emerge. Billy never went inside the house. If he did, it would feel too much like an acknowledgment of what they were doing. But it all went away, that lingering sense of embarrassment that he couldn’t shake off, when Steve had stepped outside with a ‘hey Hargrove,’ and a little smile like he was actually pleased to see him. He’d had to make up for the way it’d made him feel all light and fluttery by immediately shoving Harrington into the pool.

_“Asshole!”_

_“You say that like it’s a surprise,”_ Billy’d said, and jumped in after him.

He’d long dried off by now. Both of them had, after almost an hour in the water alternately racing or dunking each other. Steve had padded inside, leaving smacking wet footprints behind on the paving, to get ice cream. Billy had waited, itched at the drying pool water on his belly, watched the sun dry up the imprints of his feet. He’d thought Harrington would’ve been sick of ice cream, what with his laughable day job, but according to him ice cream at work and ice cream at home were entirely different things. Dork. He’d plonked the tub of mint chocolate chip between them and handed Billy a spoon. It was melted to hell by now, but neither of them had bothered to put it away when they were done. It wasn’t his favourite flavour – he preferred fruit ones, strawberry or cherry – but it was sweet and cold, and he’d liked the feel of Steve’s cool dry lips on his before he’d flopped down to look at the magazine.

A little while later, long enough for Billy to start feeling fidgety where he sat in the pool chair, and Steve was still sprawled out on the towel. Wanted to run his tongue along any inch of that chlorine-tacky hot skin he could get to. He’d be damned if he’d show it though, gripped tightly onto his thigh instead of chewing on his thumbnail, one of his numerous bad habits he didn’t care enough to kick. He attempted to keep himself in line by counting the moles dotted along Steve’s shoulders and back, but he was too far away to count the smaller ones, so. Fuck that. 

Harrington had obvious tan lines from wearing shorts and t shirts, straight across his upper arms and just above his knees. But they’d grown fainter, blurred, with the amount of time he’d spent outside and wearing less still the past few weeks of summer. Slightly paler again were the tops of his thighs, marking where his swim shorts sat when he came to sit by the public pool and torture Billy when he was stuck working. And Billy knew for a fact there was one final line further up from an even smaller swimsuit, a triangle over his ass still pale but the very tops of his legs browned up a little from spending so much time sunning himself by the pool with Billy. He shifted where he was lying on his front, and said tiny swimsuit shifted too, showing that milk white curve of skin when the suit went a little further up into his ass crack. It really was the tiniest fuckin’ suit.

“It’s just a movie, big guy,” Steve said, in response to Billy’s lack of an answer.

“Mm. Maybe,” he said, rolled his shoulders. “If nothin’ better comes up.” He’d be there with fuckin’ bells on, and they both knew it.

Steve sniffed, crossed his ankles one over the other. “I’ll just keep my fingers crossed then, huh.”

The whole thing was still new and shiny and fresh outta the box and a little beyond comprehension for him. Steve was hot, and Billy knew he was too, but that didn’t make it any less of a thrill to have it confirmed Steve agreed, wanted him back just as much. They didn’t see each other alone all that often; couldn’t, between work and the kids, and Neil being Neil. But when they did see each other, Billy couldn’t keep his hands off of him. Things tended to go pretty quick, because of that. They’d mostly just made out to start with, a few beers and the crippling need to be close to him enough to take the edge off his list of reasons on why hooking up with Harrington was a dumb fucking idea. Then the beers had gotten fewer and the kisses more often, in the back of Steve’s car, behind the mall, locker room at the pool. Now, they might jerk each other off, all biting sharp breaths and wiping their dirty hands on the ratty tartan blanket Billy kept in the Camaro for nights he couldn’t face sleeping in the house. Sometimes they didn’t even get that far, just grabbed a hold of whatever they could reach and rutted against each other in desperation until they got off, didn’t even bother with peeling down their jeans first. Billy’d blown him a couple times, thankful for the giant backseat of Steve’s car. And though he’d seen the wheels turning while he watched him in the afterglow, Steve hadn’t been brave enough to return the favour just yet. Not that Billy cared – he’d already gotten more outta Harrington than he ever thought he would – but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it. The thought alone was enough to rev him up. Not that he hadn’t thought about more than that either; thought about Steve bending him over and fucking him quick and dirty and too hard, like a couple a dogs, or him taking the time to spread Steve out, real sweet, show him what he couldn’t say out loud.

“Whatcha thinking about, Billy goat?” Steve pushed his fancy sunglasses down his nose, was watching Billy over the top of them.

Billy was thinking about how he wanted to sink his teeth into Steve’s left ass cheek. “You know I hate that, Bambi.”

Steve tutted. “And you know I hate Bambi, so…”

“If you hate it so much, then why’ve you gone so pink in the face, baby?” Billy said, arched his back just a touch, cupped his hand real loose over the front of his shorts, like it might have been coincidental.

Steve swallowed, blinking furiously behind his sunglasses. “Right, as if you don’t know.”

Billy licked across his teeth. “Let’s pretend I don’t.”

“You’re hot as hell, Billy,” Steve shook his head. “Just looking at you sometimes, I – “

Billy was done playing nice. He hadn’t just come over for a chat and a swim, that was the sort of shit they were stuck doing when the kids were around, strictly PG. Now he was all out of patience, was going to make the most of their rare time blessedly alone. He got up, stalked across the hot paving around the pool to straddle the backs of Steve’s thighs.

“What – “ Steve twisted, tried to turn himself over, but Billy stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Just hang tight a second, Harrington.”

“What for?” Steve sounded a little put out, but did as he was told, settled back down flat on his belly with his chin resting on his hands.

“I’m enjoying the view,” Billy said, reached down to palm at Steve’s ass. Steve hummed, let his head sink further into his hands, forehead on the towel. He rolled his hands over soft flesh, dug his fingertips in tight, couldn’t help rocking himself against the sun-pink backs of Steve’s thighs. He slipped his fingers just up under the hem of the swimsuit, felt hot skin and the slide of the shiny fabric, pinged it to let it snap back against Steve’s ass hard enough to make him jolt. Steve groaned, low and needy, and pushed his ass up into Billy’s touch. He couldn’t help but grab another handful, bent forward to lick at the little dimples at the small of Steve’s back. At the feel of skin under his lips, he decided he was done fucking around, pulled at Steve’s hip until he took the hint and rolled himself over. His dick was obviously hard, leaking in those tiny fucking shorts and pulling the fabric tight, almost poking out the waistband, balls heavy underneath.

“Fuck,” Billy swallowed, “look at you…”

“Billy, baby – “

“Can I...”

He didn’t bother to finish asking, ducked down to Steve’s cock right away, mouthed at the hard line of it, desperate and a touch too rough, through his swimsuit. Mostly just tasted like chlorine. But he could _smell _Steve, precum and sunscreen and sweat, felt the way his dick twitched as Billy closed his mouth over it. It was too goddamn much.

_“Fuck.”_

He backed away, shuffled down to give himself a moment to breathe, kissed and bit at Steve’s thighs instead. His thumb rolled over Steve’s hipbone, kept himself grounded and Steve in place underneath him with the small circular motion. Steve’s thighs were clammy where Billy traced them with his tongue, the tang of chlorine, hair catching on his lips. He let his teeth graze over the softest part of his upper leg, latched on to suck a small, pink mark there. Steve jerked, hands fisted in the towel underneath him.

_“Shit,_ Billy.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He’d used the endearment a few too many times to play it off as a joke anymore.

Billy figured he’d given himself enough time to regroup, worked his way back up to nose at Steve’s dick through the tiny blue suit. He took hold of the waistband, peeled them down just enough so he could get at what he wanted, left the fabric pulled tight right under Steve’s balls. Steve was big, Billy had that figured out the moment he’d caught sight of him the shower, but that didn’t mean his mouth watered any less each time he saw him now, all thick and hard and ready for him. He was done fuckin’ teasing. He took as much of him in as he could in one go, groaned in sheer bliss at the heaviness on his tongue, filling his mouth. Steve yelped and bucked up a little, making Billy gag and pull back.

“Watch it Harrington,” Billy glared up at him. Steve’s face was flushed, sunglasses pushed back on top of his head so he could watch what Billy was doing, a few stray wisps of fine hair falling onto his forehead.

“Sorry,” he panted.

Billy was back on him then, all guns blazing, cheeks hollowed and spit running down his chin. He could feel his own dick throb at the sensation, the noises Steve was making, the smell of him. Too far gone for his own comfort, he eased off again, kissing and licking and slobbering his way up and down Steve’s cock, pushed up by the stretched taught swim shorts. He brought one hand up to squeeze and knead, a bit harder than was strictly nice of him, at Steve’s balls.

“Oh my God,” Steve’s head thumped back against the concrete, hard enough that Billy could hear it. Ouch.

“Careful, dumbass,” he kissed at the side of his dick, “I don’t wanna stop to drive you to the fuckin’ emergency room.” He took Steve properly into his mouth again, one hand pinning his hip and the other rolling his balls, worked him quicker, harder, feeling Steve tense up underneath him. He came with a wordless groan, loud and careless enough that Billy was glad the neighbours weren’t too close, arching up and filling Billy’s mouth while he held on for dear fuckin’ life. When he’d taken as much as he could, he pulled back, swallowed, tipped his head back so Steve could see his throat work to get it all down. He knew he looked pleased with himself, and he was. Eyes closed, he licked his lip, heard Steve’s quiet, “shit,” as he watched.

“Mm,” Billy ducked back down to press a wet kiss to the hair above Steve’s softening dick. But that was enough savouring the moment for now; his dick was hard as steel and he needed to come like yesterday.

He reached down to pull his own aching cock out of his uncomfortably tight shorts, watched Steve prop himself up onto his elbows so he could see. He spat in his hand to jerk himself the rest of the way off, delighted in the little nose wrinkle Steve gave him for it. Knowing he wasn’t going to last long, not with Steve all hot and spread out under him, dick still wet from Billy’s mouth and chest still heaving, he didn’t bother to drag things out, tugged himself quick and dirty.

“Come for me, baby,” hearing those words fall, rough and a little sleepy, from Steve’s mouth was what did him in.

He came over Steve’s belly, thighs, softening cock and the swimsuit still stretched across his upper legs. He watched Steve’s dazed face, tongue swiping his lip as he watched Billy, pink flush on his nose and cheeks where he’d caught the sun all the deeper. Boy burned like a damn marshmallow. Nothing left to give, he let his shaky legs give out, let himself slump forward onto Steve, the unpleasant slickness of his come between them. Eh. Nothing another dip in the pool wouldn’t fix.

Steve patted limply at his shoulder, smile in his voice. “Good job, big guy.”

“Thanks.” God, he sounded rough as hell. He’d probably jerk off to that later in the shower before bed, the soreness Harrington’s dick in his throat had left behind.

“C’mere,” Steve put his arms around him and hauled him up for a kiss, there was no doubt he could taste himself in Billy’s mouth. As if he could hear Billy’s thoughts, he sucked on his tongue a little, pulled back to smile all soft and lazy against his lips.

There was no place in the whole goddamn world Billy would rather be. Even his memories of back home seemed a little flat, faded postcard pictures, next to the sight of sun on Harrington’s pool, lingering traces of hairspray and sunscreen, the solid weight of him holding Billy up. Which was why he had to go, before he gave in and kissed him again, before he said something he meant, before he let himself stay all long, lazy Sunday afternoon. Before he let Steve see how much he wanted all of that. He told him he had to go, said it with a smirk and something dirty so Steve wouldn’t see how much it stung, with a casual promise to see him tomorrow when he dropped Max to the mall. There was a tightness to Steve’s answering smile that he pretended not to notice. When he walked around the side of the house back to the Camaro, he didn’t look back. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Now I know what your love can do,**

**I’ll be hanging ‘round your door.**

**And I’m gonna love you baby**

**I’m gonna give you more than you bargained for.**

Steve didn’t have an exact moment in his head for when the thing between them had started. Well, he could remember the first time they’d hooked up, he wasn’t about to forget _that,_ but he wasn’t sure of the exact moment he started to feel… a certain kinda way, about Billy Hargrove. It was more that there were lots of little moments he could put together, that overlapped and made something more solid, like layers of paint.

One of the first coats of paint, if he was going to go with that shitty analogy, was one morning when he’d gone to pick up Max – early – to drive the kids up to Hopper’s cabin to see El. She was his first stop and it was hot already, yellow-white morning sun in his eyes as he’d pulled up across the street from the Hargroves’ place. The Camaro was in the drive, and so was Hargrove, shirt off in the early sun and tinkering with his car, oil on his hands and buffing the already gleaming blue paintwork. He hadn’t seen Steve yet. The best part of it though, was that Steve had had his windows rolled down. Which meant that he could hear big bad Billy Hargrove singing _I’m In Love with My Car_ as he polished his mirrors. He wasn’t terrible at it either. Max had come running out not long after, yelling a quick goodbye to him as she barrelled down the drive to where Steve was waiting. Billy had looked confused for a second, before his eye landed on the BMW. Steve had watched as Billy tried to figure out if he’d heard him singing – he was too far away to see in much detail, but close enough for Steve to notice his shoulders tighten and mouth go thin – and gave Steve a jerky nod before he’d turned his back and stiffly began to wipe at the same spot he’d just gone over on the windshield.

A couple of years back, he never would have even considered that he might be into guys too. Because he’d liked girls, and there was never any reason to question it. Even now, when he was getting his rocks off with a dude on a regular basis, he hadn’t really spared much thought to question it. Anyway, he'd had much bigger problems recently, saving the world and all. It had come on so gradually, he hadn’t even acknowledged it as a thing he needed to think about. Billy’d become his sort-of friend first, the kind he shared a quiet smoke and complained about the kids with. Then somehow he’d become an actual friend, the sort he’d call up just to talk shit with, and he saw most days, and in the privacy of his head held closer than just about anyone else. Then he was a friend he made out with after too much beer by the quarry, then a friend he made out with when they were bored. And as of a few weeks ago, a friend who jerked him off in the back of the car, who sucked his dick without either beer or boredom in the equation. Steve was still wondering whether ‘friend’ was the right word for him anymore. And yet, he surprised himself by not having any kind of meltdown over it. He guessed it was how steadily, easily, it had all happened that had kept him from overthinking and losing his shit. For once, something with Billy Hargrove that hadn’t been zero to one hundred in a blink. For now, he just had all the same sort of feelings he might when he started dating a new girl – happy, giddy, an odd kind of indulgent laziness, anticipation. And he was determined to bask in that feeling as long as he could. He’d waded through enough shit to cut himself some slack and enjoy something kinda nice life had dished out for once.

He was still wary of showing his hand too much – he knew himself well enough to know he largely couldn’t help it when it came to romance, went all in – in fear of spooking Billy. He’d made it clear, in both words and actions, that yeah they were friends, and yeah they were fucking, but it was never going to be more than that. He’d never even set foot inside Steve’s house; the hot summer making it easy enough for them to hook up somewhere discreet outside or hidden away in their cars. He’d never been inside the Hargroves’ place either, it was just how they did things. They had a lot of fun, and he was happy, believe it or not. The happiest he’d been since he and Nance had split. Was it just sex? If it was, he wasn’t sure they’d still be spending every damn free second together. Was Steve just a way for Billy to pass the time? He hoped not. They weren’t dating, of course they weren’t, and _Billy didn’t do dates,_ but it felt closer to that than anything else he could put a name to. What they called it didn’t matter, he just didn’t want to lose it.

“Hargrove?”

He’d only gone down to kitchen to get a coke, more tired than his half day at Scoops warranted and humming a dumb jingle from a cereal ad, and jumped a foot in the air when he happened to glance out the patio doors and saw someone standing by the pool. Billy had told him last night, clear as a fucking bell, that they wouldn’t be seeing each other today after his shift at the pool._ Have to spend a little quality time with your right hand Harrington, I got shit to do tomorrow._ But there he was, standing out back by the pool, his back to the house and a cigarette burned down to the filter. 

“Hey Harrington.” He didn’t turn around.

“Hi. Um,” he fidgeted with his hair as he stepped out onto the paving, warm through his socks, “I thought you were busy today.”

“Yeah well,” Billy finished the last of his cigarette and dropped it into an old beer can they left at the pool’s edge for that exact reason, “my schedule cleared itself, so.”

Steve waited for him to say something else, but he left him hanging. Usually, it was Billy that started things or pushed them further, made it obvious to Steve what he was after. Sure, there were times that Steve couldn’t help himself but to get a little grabby, or craved the specific kind of closeness that came with a long make out session and made the first move, Billy more than happy to continue. But this time he stayed silent, still facing away, until Steve started to get fidgety.

“Uh, I don’t wanna be a dick or whatever, but what do you – “

Billy moved before Steve could finish, turned on his heel and walked towards the house. He brushed past Steve, still hot-skinned and smelling of chlorine, damp and barefoot. Steve gaped as he slipped in through the back door and out of sight, quick and quiet as a cat through a cat flap.

“Wait – “ he started, then bit his tongue. He’d invited Billy inside countless times, before they’d started hooking up and after, but he’d stopped when it was obvious it was making Billy uncomfortable, snappish. Like if he didn’t set foot inside the house, it didn’t count. But now, he’d let himself in without any nudging from Steve at all, and he didn’t want to put him off if he could help it.

“You comin’ Harrington?” came his voice from the shadowed hallway, low and rough.

Steve almost tripped over himself to follow him inside, closed the glass door quietly, still half-afraid of shattering whatever was happening and scaring him away. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected; for Billy to barrel his way in maybe, like an angry bull or an overexcited dog, loud and putting his hands all over Steve’s mom’s ugly collection of ceramics. But it wasn’t like that. He was more like a cat or a fox, the way he slipped in quietly through the patio doors, eyes darting to take it all in, as he cautiously led the way up the stairs.

“Which one’s yours?” he said once they were on the landing.

“Uh, second on the left,” Steve pointed, redundantly, to the only open door along the otherwise dark hall.

Billy nodded, mouth tight, and stepped forward to go in, Steve stumbling along behind him. The windows had been shut all day, leaving the room all soupy heat, too bright sun coming in through the slats in the blinds. He watched Billy cast his eye over his room, wishing for half a second he’d cleaned it up a little, before remembering it was pretty damn unlikely Billy cared that he had dirty boxers on the floor or coke cans and used tissues piled up in the trash can. Billy turned around to look at him then, set of his face and shoulders uncertain, tense, like he still hadn’t decided if he was going to hop out the window and make a run for it. Late sunlight came in through the window behind him, lighting up stray wisps of his curls, clingy, still damp shorts hanging low on his hips. The sight of him there, in Steve’s room, bare feet on Steve’s carpet and the dumb wallpaper Steve’s mom had picked out behind him, made him feel like… like… like a spell had been broken. Like his strings had been cut. Steve sort of slumped, let out a heavy breath and fell forward to close the few steps between them. Billy was ready for him, tongue in his mouth and hands up in his hair the second Steve was on him.

The instant they were back on familiar ground, Billy’s cautiousness, the shyness that seemed an odd fit on him, started to melt right off his shoulders. The tension from when he’d been padding through Steve’s house for the first time drained away, like he’d either forgotten where they were or it didn’t matter to him anymore. He was noticeably more at ease the longer they made out, started to smile again, tease, be loud. It made Steve happy to see him like that, so easy, comfortable with him.

“You smilin’ for me, Bambi?” Billy said against his lips.

“Yeah well, you started it.” Steve pulled away to kiss at Billy’s neck without any real direction, wherever he could reach. Kissed behind his ear and tongued at Billy’s earring. Which he quickly gave up on when he remembered how nasty the taste of metal in his mouth was. “Gross.”

He felt Billy laugh, a low rumble through his chest. “You callin’ me gross?”

“What, you gonna argue, hot stuff?” Steve said, moving back to the spot on Billy’s neck that tasted more like soap and pool water, less earwax and metal. “I’ve seen your gym locker.”

They just kissed a while longer, slow and a little messy. Steve had always enjoyed kissing, never understood why other guys always seemed to want to rush through it with their girlfriends. There was a certain kind of intimacy that you couldn’t get from anything else, different from sex. It felt closer? Whatever. He’d always been terrible at explaining it when he tried. He kissed at Billy’s lower lip, let his eyes drop to where their hands were loosely clasped together. Billy had a pale strip of a tan line on his wrist from his watch, which was… somehow cute beyond words. He didn’t have many other tan lines like Steve did, was baked golden all over. Apart from the tiny white triangles over his cock and ass where is swimsuit sat, when he came over to lounge around by Steve’s pool like a big smug lion. Steve pulled away, grabbed at his thick upper arms and stroked a thumb over the birthmark near his shoulder. He ducked to kiss it in happy impulse, heard Billy tut as he swatted him away.

“Jesus pretty boy, you’re a sap.”

“Uh huh,” Steve didn’t even bother to disagree, just nudged him backwards in little increments until they were flopping down onto the unmade bed in a tangle, hands still curled tight into each others’ clothes.

Billy huffed and let Steve crowd him, hand coming up to grab his ass and pull him closer. “These part of your work uniform?” he said, hand stroking back and forth over the slippery material of his shorts.

“Uh, yeah I guess.” It took Steve a second to catch up; he had bigger things on his mind than what he may or may not have been wearing. He hadn’t bothered to change properly after his half day at Scoops, since he hadn’t been expecting to see Billy. Besides, the shorts weren’t terrible, were comfy and didn’t even look too bad when separated from the awful shirt and that godforsaken hat. Said shirt had been unceremoniously tossed on the floor the moment he’d gotten home, leaving him in the thin white tee he wore underneath. He’d been careful not to let Billy see him in his full Scoops uniform yet.

“Mm,” Billy hummed and ran his teeth over his neck, “cute.”

“Thanks.” Whether he wanted to like, say thank you to Billy for finally daring to set foot in his house or whatever – or whether it was some weird subconscious thing his parents had hammered into him about being a good host, or maybe it was just how he was in the sack – he didn't know, but that was when he knew he wanted this time to be all about Billy. And, in a flash of inspiration, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He wriggled back so he was sitting over Billy’s hips, pushed his Hawkins Pool tank up under his armpits to play with his chest, partly because he knew it drove Billy nuts, and partly because he hoped it might distract from any lack of skill on his part for what he was about to do.

“Shit,” Billy pushed up into Steve’s hands as he kneaded the muscle, bit his lip against a groan as Steve pulled and pinched hard at his nipples, pushed his pecs together. He had a habit of referring to his chest as his tits, which made Steve blush and burn and want to bite him, play with him even more. _“Shit.”_

“I know baby,” Steve ducked down to suck a mark onto his chest, only small, the sort of thing that flushed an angry pink for a few hours before it faded to a barely noticeable smudge. He knew Billy wouldn’t want anyone asking questions at work. Or home. He ran the flat of his tongue over his nipple, pinching the other lightly between his fingers, before pulling back to look at the boy underneath him. Billy was flushed pink all up his chest and a band across his cheeks, squirming and grinning and panting under his touch. He was beautiful, and Steve was damn well going to show him.

He put his hands down on the rumpled sheets, pushing himself further back so he was kneeling over Billy’s legs, and if he bent forward, he’d be face to face with Billy’s dick. Now, it wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to blow him before. To start with it just plain hadn’t even crossed his mind; Billy was great at jerking him off, and the feeling of Billy’s dick in his hand, the rush of doing it with _him_ was more than enough to keep Steve happy. After Billy had blown him a couple times though, Steve found himself wanting to return the favour. But, to put it simply, he hadn’t done it before and he was worried about fucking it up, doing something stupid and Billy laughing at him for it. But today was the day, and he was going to fucking do it. He pulled on every memory he had of going down on a girl, and the handful of times Billy had gotten his mouth on him, to make it as good as he could.

“You just gonna stare at it all day, sweetheart?” Billy said, and Steve startled, jerked his head up to look at him. “It won’t bite ya.”

Steve snorted, shook his head. “I know.” He shifted off of Billy’s legs, tapped at his knees so he’d move them apart and let Steve in between. “Spread ‘em Hargrove.”

Billy laughed at that, a happy little sound that made Steve dizzy. “You got it.”

Steve got down between his parted legs, licked and kissed and lightly bit his way up Billy’s thighs, copying what Billy had done when he’d last blown him. Which Billy must have realised, because he was laughing again, tugging gently on Steve’s hair. “Copying me huh Harrington? That’s real cute.”

“Sure, big guy,” Steve didn’t bother to deny it. He was keen to please, and he was going to do all he could to make sure he pulled it off. So to speak. He nosed at the hot, chlorine smelling skin of Billy’s inner thigh, one hand reaching up to paw at as much of his chest and belly as he could reach, blunt nails scratching through the hair above his dick, the other grabbing a handful of Billy’s ass when he tipped his hips up and spread his legs further.

Steve was faced with that little red swimsuit, sticky damp and warm with pool water and the heat of Billy’s body, dick obviously hard and tenting the clingy fabric. Despite all his thinking about it, mouth practically watering over the thought of it, when it came to the thing itself, Steve still hesitated. Not out of like, nerves or embarrassment or whatever, just… it felt like an important moment. Which Billy wasted no time in ruining.

“You going to pussy out on me Harrington?” he nudged him with his knee. “I can go find someone else if you are.”

If they’d been doing this in the back of Steve’s car again, or around the back of the mall in the dark after closing, he might have started worrying that he meant it, that Billy would quietly slip out of his life with the promise of something better. But he was happy; Billy was in his room, in his bed, eyes soft and kiss-swollen mouth smiling. And Steve sure as fuck wasn’t about to let him win. “Nah I can do it, keep your hair on, man.”

“If you don’t like it pretty boy,” Billy shifted his hips as Steve settled between his parted legs, “then just fuckin’ spit it out.”

Steve knew a challenge when Billy threw it down. He pressed his open mouth against the hard line of Billy’s dick, just breathed, let the warmth of his breath make it twitch beneath his lips. Mouthing at him, all chlorine and musky sweat and a hint of that goddamn cologne he drenched himself in, it was the best thing he’d ever smelt in his life.

Suddenly and unbearably impatient, he carefully lifted the waistband down over Billy’s straining dick, pulling the shorts down so they were stretched tight across the thickness of his thighs, didn’t bother taking them all the way off. He’d seen Billy’s dick a whole bunch of times – the school showers, where he hadn’t paid the slightest bit of attention besides the standard curious glance, through his open jeans when they’d jerked each other off in the dark back seat of a car, soft and pink after he’d shot his load on Steve’s belly – but he could honestly say his face had never been this close to it before.

Not wanting to go all in and choke and make an idiot out of himself, he started out by kissing along the length of his cock, licking at him, tasting the blob of precome from the tip. He took the end into his mouth, his own dick kicking at the noise that left Billy’s throat as he did so.

“Fuck, _Stevie.”_

Steve hummed, unwilling to pull off, which only made Billy squirm all the more. That made him feel a little bolder, a little pleased with himself, and he took more of Billy into his mouth. Not all the way, new territory for him and all, but enough that he had Billy gasping and cursing and leaking, enough that he started to enjoy the heavy feeling of Billy on top of his tongue and filling his mouth with that hot, musky taste.

“Shit, baby.”

Billy’s wrecked voice brought him a little ways out of his stupor and, without taking his mouth off of his dick, he looked up to Billy’s face. He was watching him with tears in his eyes, mouth slack, like Steve was the best goddamn thing in the world. Mouth full, Steve squeezed at his hip instead, hoped Billy got what he meant. The sun was still coming through the blinds all buttercup yellow, hitting the side of Billy’s face and lighting him up all yellow-white and shadow. He closed his eyes a while, lost himself in the sensation of Billy’s hand on the back of his neck, sweat and damp, rough fingertips, the weight of him in his mouth and the ache in his jaw. A whimper from somewhere above him reminded him of the times Billy had laid him out and sucked his dick, of the things he’d done to push Steve over into that last tumbling rush of pleasure. Still sucking on him as hard and deep as he could without gagging, Steve brought his hand, tingly and clumsy from where he’d been leaning on it, to tug a little on his balls, move further back to palm his ass. Which he must have liked, because it had Billy arching off the bed, digging his heels in to the sheets as he shot his load, with a groan and an almost inaudible sigh of –

_“King Steve.” _

That was almost enough to have Steve following him. He swallowed on reflex before he could think twice, wincing a little at the hot, bitter taste. Billy was still panting above him, and Steve rested his head on his thigh to catch his breath, working his tongue in an attempt to get rid of the taste, swallowing hard.

“I can’t believe you’ve never done that before, Harrington,” Billy said eventually, breaking his way into Steve’s cloudy head.

“Yeah well,” his voice sounded like shit, like he had a cold or had been crying. Or sucked a dick for the first time, he guessed.

“You come yet, pretty boy?”

Steve lifted his heavy head to look at him. “No.”

Billy raised an eyebrow, sleepy smile turning sharp. “Then get up here.”

He pulled himself up the length of Billy’s body, straddled across his torso and propped himself up with a hand on Billy’s chest, rubbing absently at his peaked nipple and watching him bite his lip. Billy took Steve's dick out of his shorts to stroke at him lazily, smearing his excessive amount of precome along the length to slick him up. “You always get so wet, baby.”

“Yeah.”

“Next time, I’m gunna let you fuck me so good,” Billy said, hand getting a little faster, firm and steady and looking Steve dead in the eye while he jerked him off, “get fucked with that huge dick of yours.” Billy licked his lips and Steve’s mouth dropped open as thrust forward into his hand. “I wanna ride you like a goddamn horse, Harrington.”

Steve went off like a fucking shot.

A little later, and Steve felt numb and floaty. Was dimly amazed that Billy was still there with him, in his room, and that he hadn’t dreamed the whole thing up in desperation for him to stay. He was propped up against the headboard, all stretched out and lazy after getting off, and when he looked down at Steve his eyes went all heavy-lidded and dark lashes fanned down towards his cheek. His eyes looked bluer than ever, bright in the dimming late afternoon, sprinkle of sun-freckles visible across his nose. He was smoking, his face hazy with it as he continued to watch Steve doze.

They weren’t really touching, because Billy didn’t do sweetness after sex, didn’t sugar coat anything, once he’d gotten what he wanted. They’d hooked up enough times for Steve to know that. But the different and entirely fucking amazing turn this time had taken had gotten him all hopeful. Billy had never hung around like this before either – would usually grin and slap his butt and leave. Or frown and close off, go silent until Steve took the hint and made himself scarce. Or he would go overly boisterous; all sharp, mocking _Harringtons_ or _King Steves_ and locker room bullshit, sneering and laughing and carefully keeping several feet between them. But then, they’d never done it inside Steve’s house before, so. He didn’t really know what to expect. Their only point of contact was where Billy was lightly holding onto Steve’s thumb – index finger hooked underneath and stroking his own thumb slowly up and down, blunt nail catching on Steve’s knuckle. It made his chest hurt.

“Hargrove?” His voice was too loud, broke the thick bubble of quiet around them.

“Mm?”

“Does this mean you’ll actually start hanging out inside my house now?” he twisted his neck a little to look up at him. They were on the knife edge of something, and Steve desperately hoped he hadn’t pushed Billy off the wrong side.

He felt Billy go tense. A pause as he took another drag and ashed his cigarette, filling the air around them with another drifting cloud of sun-yellowed smoke. “Don’t push it.” It wasn’t a no.

“Because it would be really great if I never had to lean up against the pool house again while you jerk me off,” he said, played it up with a sigh. “My ass got scratched to shit.”

He felt the tension drop right out of Billy again as he laughed, low in his throat. Carried on playing with Steve’s thumb. “You’re such a priss, Harrington.”

“It hurt, asshole.” It hadn’t, not really, but if his playing it up made Billy feel better, less cornered, less… scared, he’d do it.

Billy hummed, carefully looked away from Steve and out of the window. “I gotta be honest, I really like the way my car smells after I’ve sucked you off in it,” he said, “but I guess, if you’re going to be such a girl about it, we can hook up at Casa Harrington too, sometimes.”

Steve snorted, felt the bed shake a little with his laughter. “Gee, you’re so good to me.” He twined his hand into Billy’s properly, held it against his chest. Billy let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I’m gunna go slink off and stew in the weird guilt that happens any time I post smut k bye


End file.
